Wingbeat
by KartoffelFogel
Summary: Think of every protagonist in any Halo Fanfiction yet. Now throw them out the airlock.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Heroes are meant to be young. Heroes are meant to be brave, or special. Even the 'unlikely' heroes still appeal to the general public as 100% hero material. Heroes are meant to be brave, honorable and compassionate Humans, or Sangheili.

I was none of those. I was truly an unlikely hero. I certainly didn't look the part; I was slender, small-boned, and could scarcely hit better than an Unggoy with a broken hand. For some reason I was born with a pessimistic view of life; those who care enough about me to notice say that I have a perpetual scowl upon my face.

That isn't true. It isn't a _scowl _to be precise, but it has the same effect. Generally I put everyone around me in a bad mood. I'm surprised they didn't use me as a weapon to demoralize the enemy. With my 'scowl' I could probably get half of your army to commit suicide. In case you're wondering, _you_ are the enemy. Well, not _you _precisely, but rather your people; your kind.

Humans.

The so-called race of heroes. Truly, the only other species so arrogant as to name themselves that are the Sangheili. At least _they _look the part.

Apparently, you Humans ask us why we tried to commit genocide. Why we didn't offer you mercy. Whenever I hear a human speak about the evils the Covenant perpetrated, I laugh at the hypocrisy. I mean, really! Your kind willingly performed evils far beyond the description! You claim to hold our religious warfare horrible, but have you seen your own past? What were they called now—the Crusades? The Jihad?

If there is one thing my kind cannot tolerate, it is inconsistency. You understand, of course; us being what we are and all. We are loyal beyond any mere Human capacity; you consider us mindless because of our tireless zeal. Really now. You humans can be so _dense._

I'm pretty sure you're tired of listening to me berate your species. Actually, I'm tired of that too. And by that look on your face, you probably want me to actually tell you the accursed story and so you can write it down, correct?

Oh, maybe I should mention who I am. Yes, I imagine that would be helpful. _Highly _helpful, in fact. My name is indecipherable in your language, and in your clumsy method of spelling. So I'll simply tell you what my name means.

Wingbeat.

Chapter One

You humans talk loud and long about the atrocities and tragedies you faced during the war. The Sangheili talk loud and long about the atrocities and tragedies the visited upon their enemies upon the war. Humans complain, Sangheili boast. My kind, the Yanme'e, we just talk.

Not the way you talk, of course. Our conversations are horribly quick. It may take you several seconds to say the different syllables in a sentence, but for my people, a sentence is a one-second variable chirp that flies wildly about the sonic spectrum. Much like the way those damned Huragok speak. Despite their faults, they at least have an efficient method of speech. Unlike you foolish two-leggeds.

There were no events talked about more than the twin pivotal moments in Yanme'e history; when we joined the Covenant, and when that selfsame Covenant broke. I shall cover one topic briefly, and then the other.

That was a sigh, wasn't it? You want me to 'cut to the chase' and tell you about what I did during the Great Schism?

No, no! I asked you a question, are you going to interrupt me as I tell you this tale, or are you going to shut up and let me tell it my very informational yet roundabout way?

Are you sure?

_Sure?_

Okay, fine. Allow me to cover the event of the invasion of the Covenant.

We had pretty good ships. A lot of them.

They had better ships. A whole lot of them.

We blew away a lot of their ships; the worst losses the Covenant fleet went through until the end of the Covenant-Human war. We fought them repeatedly; initiated our own plans and schemes to counteract their plans and schemes.

Then they found our homeworld. Like that, the war was over!

Okay, that's enough of old Yanme'e history for now.

WILL YOU STOP SIGHING!

I don't _care _if it was a sigh of relief! I'll tell the story _my, _way, godsdamnit!

Okay. Now the other one; the Great Schism.

We Yanme'e are loyal to the extreme. I'm sure I've said this before, but redundancy never hurt.

…

You didn't sigh. Good for you! You're learning!

Where was I? Oh yes. The Yanme'e are loyal. More so than any other race in the Covenant. This is because we are hive creatures; loyalty is so hardwired into our flesh and being that not being absolutely loyal results in our being put on a ship and sent to a concentration camp to be worked to death.

Indeed, I, Wingbeat, was sent to a concentration camp. There, I was meant to have suffered long. I was too unruly, you see; not completely psychopathic, but of questionable mental health. Namely, I hit another Yanme'e and told him to go away from my food net and go flutter about some other piece of dung like the fly he was.

This did not go over so well.

You have to understand, the Yanme'e are hive creatures. While taking a swing at a fellow human is not all that bad for you people, for the Yanme'e it is a crime beyond description.

I was sent to Yanme'e Detention Facility 2A in the Vessa star system, near the edge of Covenant-held territory, near human space. The reason for this? The said detention facility was mine; specifically a lithium mine. Covenant ships sometimes utilize lithium for fusion reactors. However, you humans still use the barbaric fission reactors, so there would be not tactical advantage to attacking the detention facility. Also, if all the Yanme'e there were killed, who cares? There the delinquents/horrid evil egg-eaters (the two nearly synonymous in Yanme'e terms) are sent to be humiliated and worked to death by Kig-Yar overseers anyway, perishing upon the machines that worked the mine.

Pleasant.

The mine itself resembled a large barnacle with a rod stabbed through it; a flat cone with a cylindrical control tower and engine room. This large space barnacle was stuck to a large asteroid. Apparently, the mine's task was to find an asteroid, latch onto it, dig a large set of unpressurized catacombs in it and peel away all it needed, letting as many workers die there as possible, of course, the leave it bled dry and find another asteroid to mine.

The small, pathetic cargo ship I was in cruised slowly to a standstill next to the mine; it extended a grav tube to one port, and pulled in the ore. The captain of the vessel, a Kig-Yar shipmistress, oversaw the loading of the lithium. She was flanked by two Kig-Yar soldiers; their distinctive aqua shields capable of being used as riot shields, flank defense, or in this case, VIP protection.

I, too, was flanked by two Kig-Yar soldiers; this was a tad bit unnecessary, as my wings were hobbled and my arms were handcuffed. I waited as the lithium flowed into the _Always Revere the Gods _(classic unoriginal Kig-Yar naming right here) and just sat. And I waited. And I waaaaaiiiiiiiiiited.

Then, I risked my own neck to ask the Shipmistress a question. I phrased it as unoffensively as possible.

"Excuse me, o Queen Bird-thing, but I think the whole point was to punish me aboard the Detention Facility, not bore me to death right here."

_That _earned me a hard blow to the back of the head from one of my Kig-Yar wardens. The Shipmistress gave me a cold look. "You are an impertinent Drone." She said, using the name the Kig-Yar, the Humans, the Unggoy and the species that were generally lower on the status chain then the Yanme'e are gave us. "I can see why you were sent here."

"Yes. Indeed. I thought that _me _getting horribly punished over there was the point of this exercise, not getting a paltry amount of some cheap ore."

"You are deeply mistaken, Drone. The _Always Revere the Gods _is a cargo ship. It only has a larger cadre of Kig-Yar soldiers just so that it can double as a prison ship. Since, admittedly, there are not many criminals among your people, the _Revere _doesn't have to serve as a prison ship very often. So your schedule takes place after the lithium's."

"Oh, I'm glad my cruel and horrible punishment isn't the top priority here. I _always _like taking second string to large lumps of possibly the most ridiculous element ever."

At this, the Shipmistress turned away. "You know, Drone, sometimes I pity your people as they slave away down there. But then someone like you comes along and spoils the poetic thought."

I decided that continuing conversation wasn't really important. So I shut up and just stared at the long train of lithium. I began to hum. Humming is probably the most innocuous thing a Drone could do; but to the other species of the Covenant, it is the most annoying thing you could do. Did you know, human, that you are the only other species that we've encountered that can hum by natural means? Sangheili and the Prophets can _sing, _but they can't hum!

So I hummed. Finally one of my wardens hit me on the head. I think it was the same one. Jerk.

Okay, with humming impossible, I decided to seek some other form of entertainment. So I just looked at the ship chart that hung on the wall behind me. It wasn't even holographic. No, it was carved. At least carving was _marginally _less barbaric than writing.

The chart was headed: 'Yanme'e Prison Ship 02 Designation; _Always Revere the Gods_'

How pointless. And misleading. It was titled 'Yanme'e', I suppose, because it carried Yanme'e prisoners, which as the Shipmistress just said, was only a part-time job. Second of all, the only two people on this ship who could actually _read _were probably me and the Shipmistress.

Underneath the title, it showed the structure of the ship. It was the traditional Kig-Yar design, a thin, smooth, rod-like ship; tapered at one end and cut of flat on the other, where the engines were. Attached to it on both sides were large, bulbous tumor-like cargo pods that were probably just welded on, where I was.

Finally, the long, ponderous tide of lithium barrels stopped flowing. I was almost happy about that. Make no mistake, despite my complaining, I _really _didn't want to go into the Detention Facility. And yet waiting was dull. Ah, the contradictions of life.

The two Kig-Yar beside me pushed me toward the grav lift. Whoopee. I went without much resistance. Oddly enough, this seemed to surprise the Kig-Yar. I suppose, despite the rarity of Yanme'e prisoners, they had shipped enough around to realize the dangers a Yanme'e, even hobbled and unarmed, can do if they put their minds to it.

But I didn't want any undue trouble. I went. As I approached the grav tube, two more Kig-Yar joined my entourage. Once again, what was the point?

I stepped gingerly inside the grav tube, and then more surely paced into it. Once I was deep enough inside, the tube took hold; suddenly, the Detention Facility was _down _and the _Revere _was up. This is disorienting enough for most Covenant, but it's positively nerve-wracking for a Yanme'e. Around me my guards pointed their pistols at me threateningly. I suppose that this was the time most Yanme'e that will go insane go insane. They needn't bother, though. They wouldn't get no trouble from 'ol Wingbeat.

There was more than enough of that to go around.

You know, I was almost exactly in the center of that grav tube when it all happened. From my perspective between the ship and the station, I had an almost completely unobscured look of the horrors that were to appear.

Humans tell stories of horror about how they watched in terror as large Covenant ships arrive. But really, there are no ships as horrifying as those of humanity. The imposing black ships of your people can strike fear. They are black as space itself, and where they move, the very stars wink out.

No self-respecting Sangheili or Jiralhanae would ever admit to fear, but if they were handcuffed, hobbled, unarmed and stuck inside a grav tube just as a human ship appeared, they'd probably be screaming on the inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Panic Fight

Sheer, unadulterated panic.

From my substantial knowledge of human ships, I could identify that human vessel as one of your frigates. Rather weak armor, but often move and hunt in pairs and are almost loaded with fighters, drop pods and boarding craft. Definitely more than a match for an undefended mine and an unarmed cargo ship.

If I was panicked, those bird-like Kig-Yar were absolutely insane. They were chittering all over the place, outright screaming, attempting to ready their Slipspace drives. The Shipmistress remained tense but relatively calm. The key word being 'relatively'. "Reverse the grav tube!" she shrieked. "Return our warriors to us!"

"But the prisoner!" one of my wardens said. Yup, it was the imbecile that hit me on the head twice. Won't do him much good though. Like it or not, I had to be pulled back with them. I was saved!

"We'll cook and eat him! But that mine is lost!"

Ah. Pleasant.

"Yes, Shipmistress!"

The grav tube reversed. As it did so, I stared at the human ship. It was damaged a bit. Its MAC cannon appeared to be smoldering, and its port Archer pods were seared off. It had probably just fled from a battle. Still, our chances at fighting stayed at 10^10000 to 1 against. And judging by the racket behind me, the Kig-Yar didn't plan on staying much longer.

Eventually my view of the ship vanished as I was pulled once more into the _Always Revere the Gods_' loading bay. The _Revere _disengaged the grav tube, and pulled free of the detention mine. As I watched, I noted the mine wasn't unarmed; it was launching several boarding pods. I watched as they drew near the human ship and were subsequently blown to bits by human fighter craft. I felt sick when I realized the pods and the Yanme'e they almost absolutely contained were merely cannon fodder. I felt a little triumph whenever a boarding pod attached itself to the ship, even though I knew very well that all the Yanme'e in the pods and on the mine were going to die.

The Shipmistress was shrieking louder now. "Hurry! Quick! We must flee! They'll be on us _any second!"_

"No need for undue worry." I chimed in. "Their MAC cannon is damaged, and they've lost the Archer pods that face us. They're temporarily defenseless from this side, at least while the boarding pods are engaging their fighters."

I let that sink in. We'd escape, sure, but not if these idiot Kig-Yar didn't stop freaking out. The Shipmistress did seem to calm down though, and was exuding relief. "Excellent. We may yet escape!"

That was when a Kig-Yar engineer burst in. "Shipmistress! We are unable to spool up the Slipspace drive! The warpature nodes are not functioning properly, and are phasing in and out! We need more time!"

The Shipmistress immediately lost her cool. Again. I mean, really? I'd be inclined to call her nervous and panicky if I wasn't surrounded by dozens of even more nervous and panicky Kig-Yar. On the other hand, I probably would have freaked out too; if someone had told me they had a problem they couldn't fix that would doom us all. But sadly, I could not afford that luxury. I knew very well what the incompetent Kig-Yar engineer should do.

"WHAT! Kath, you _imbecile!_ Get us out of here! Get us out of here!" The Shipmistress was flailing her arms just like one of those Earth chickens of yours. Kath, the engineer, was cringing. I suppose it was time for me to step in again.

"Oh please. Any Yanme'e hatchling not four months old could readjust the warpature frequency. Get me over to your engine room."

The Shipmistress swung her head around, just like a bird. She'd probably just set the Kig-Yar civil rights movement back a century or too, with her stereotypical avian movements. I could just see the Kig-Yar Equality Consortium trying to slow down all the bird jokes they were getting.

"You're an engineer?" She asked, her voice raising to a pitch uncomfortable even to me.

"Yes." I sighed out. "I'm not a combat Yanme'e, you understand. I used to work on old freighters just like this one. I'm experienced with almost all Slipspace drives."

She then grabbed me, and shoved me into Kath. "GET MOVING! GET US OUT OF HERE!"

My wardens took a step toward me. "Should we follow him, Shipmistress?"

"Fine! Sure! Get moving!"

I could take a hint. I proceeded to follow Kath as quickly as I could, hobbled as I was. My guards kept up easily, their shields throwing a blue glow in the hallways. I imagine we proceeded through the cargo pod until we reached the center angular rod, where most of the ships engines and comm systems would be.

We finally reached Engineering. Compared to these Kig-Yar, the Shipmistress was the Minister of Tranquility. They frantically rushed, crashing into each other, tripping, getting up again, throwing a random punch, and then rushing away to crash into someone else. They made Unggoy look efficient.

"Get me to the warp nodes. And unhobble and uncuff me." I commanded Kath. The Kig-Yar was so relieved to have someone else do all the work that he just complied. I flexed my wings a bit, and twisted my wrists a few times to get the blood flowing. As I did so, I studied Kath. The Kig-Yar was a bit bigger than the rest, stronger and slower, which ruled him out from combat jobs. He probably only got stuck as an engineer because he was to slow and too clumsy to make a soldier or sniper. Which meant that he probably had no idea what he was doing, and his problem would be easy to solve.

I got to the warpature nodes, from which Kath stayed a good distance. The twin glowing spheres were constantly shifting into Slipspace and back. Their relentless throbbing hypnotized me for awhile, but I shook my head free of their dizzying grip. I steadied myself on a console, and then adjusted their frequencies to match again, and then they phased back into reality. I then began to increase the magnitude of their Slipspace fields until they could once again create a rift that could engulf the entire ship.

"The nodes are recalibrated. Let's get out of here." I reported.

As I said that, the whole ship juddered. I whipped back to the console. Apparently, a series of human missiles had just slammed into the _Revere's _starboard cargo pod, the one full of lithium. Behind me, the Kig-Yar who I shall now call Jerk-Face moaned in fear.

"I thought you said they didn't have missiles!"

"I said they didn't have their _port _missiles, you idiots! We are safe only if they aren't facing us the right way! Too bad your pilot is an imcompetent!" I shrieked at him.

I turned to Kath. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!" I screamed. "JUMP!"

Kath wheeled around and hit another console so viciously that it might have broken. But it had the desired effect. We jumped.

The warpature nodes flared brightly, creating the very Slipspace rift they were meant to. The bright phosphorescent glow blinded the Kig-Yar around me, but I received the brunt of the light head-on without a blink. I felt the familiar tingle of a Slipspace jump; the feeling of translation into Slipspace and out again.

At least that was the idea. As the glow around me subsided, as the Kig-Yar around me began to rouse themselves, I realized, with horror, the degree to which the Kig-Yar were incompetent. I realized we hadn't yet leapt back into Truespace. I hurriedly checked one of the consoles, which only reinforced my belief. The _Revere _was still stuck in Slipspace. But why?

I kept looking, and I found my issue. A massive power fluctuation. Simply put, the _Revere _was out of power. The engines were as dead as doornails. Behind us, the Slipspace portal floated. Ahead of us, another Slipspace portal floated. We were stuck in the middle.

I began to check for fuel leaks or engine failures but as I was doing so my Kig-Yar wardens yanked me away from the controls.

"I told you we shouldn't have let him touch the machines!" Jerk-Face hissed at Kath. "If only we weren't surrounded by incompetents and malcontents!"

"That's two words that end with "tent". You're a poet, and you didn't know-"

I broke off after Jerk-Face hit me again. Pitiable fool. Did he forget that I was unhobbled and uncuffed? Did he simply not realize that I was no capable of defending myself? Apparently, he didn't, so I flew in his face. Literally. He gave a yelp of alarm and raised his shield and pistol. The amateur! Guns are _ranged _weapons, not close quarters weapons. Following instinct, he charged his pistol. Oh my, oh my. I apologize to fools and amateurs for likening them to him.

His blunder gave me the time I needed. I slammed bodily into him, wings pumping, arms and legs scratching. He squeezed off the shot; it flew high and slammed into a bulkhead with a hot, hissing splash. His stupid mistake cost him again, as his pistol overheated, throwing a bright green glow that flared in his eyes. Unfortunately for Jerk-Face, I was immune to the glare. He tried to wriggle out of my grasp, but blinded and stupid as he was, he was unable to do anything.

Before his buddies could help him, I hopped away several meters from him. He was moaning and staring at his many superficial cuts. "Oh please." I said. "The one on your neck might hurt, but the rest are pathetic. Show some backbone and get up."

I was pleased to find my little show of Yanme'e strength had stunned my other wardens, and they looked in shock at Jerk-Face instead of trying to restrain me. I guess they weren't used to their boss-man get decked by a bug. Then they turned and looked in horror at me. Then, as I watched, I realized they weren't looking at me. They were looking _behind _me.

Oh Forerunners.

I very slowly turned around. The Shipmistress was standing there, flanked by her significantly more threatening bodyguards. "What—is—this?" she asked. I resisted the urge to say "the Writ of Union Day beauty pageant" and instead said something less offensive. "Jerk-Face here thought it would be a good idea to try and stop me from getting us away from the humans."

The Shipmistress glanced at Jerk-Face. "Is this true, Hjan?" she asked threateningly. (Noooo! Now I know his name! Curse, you, Shipmistress!)

Hjan (damnit.) just stared.

The Shipmistress sighed. "Nevermind! Tell me later!" she turned to me. "Now, prisoner, do you want to tell me what just happened?"

I gave her a look that among Yanme'e is the equivalent giving someone the finger. She didn't get it, of course. "I should think it's obvious. We're out of fuel. We'll need to use some of the lithium to get out of here."

The Shipmistress' face fell. "The humans blew a hole in our cargo pod. The lithium's gone."

"Did I mention that you Kig-Yar are idiots?"

Hjan's hand twitched, as if he wanted to hit me on the head. But he didn't. I guess he learned his lesson.

The Shipmistress ignored my insult. "So what can you do?"

"What? _Me?_"

"Yes, you. Kath is hopeless and no-one else here is an engineer. So can you find some way to get enough fuel to get us out of here?"

"We could burn Hjan."

The Shipmistress ignored this, too. How irritating. "Can you get us out of here?"

I thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I know where we can get the lithium we need."

"Where?"

I gestured toward the console, and the image of the mine that floated therein.

"I just happen to know of a nearby mine. Send a shuttle, pick up a modicum of fuel, ignore the hordes of human fighters, boarding craft, missiles and the ship itself, flee back to the _Revere, _and then complete our jump!"

The Shipmistress looked at me as if I were insane, then slowly tilted her head (like a bird) and then nodded. "I assume you've just volunteered for this mission."

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"I'll need protection."

Hjan and my Kig-Yar wardens almost fainted.

The Shipmistress nodded.

They fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Firefight, Dogfight

The pathetic Kig-Yar shuttle puttered along. It was of an old, tried and tired design; it was a Type-25 Troop Carrier (a Spirit in common speech) that was redesigned for civilian use. By now it was obsolete thanks to the revolutionary Type-25, which was bright and shiny and had the much cooler name of the Phantom. So, just like every other militaristically and religiously based government out there, the Covenant military decided to lump the civilians with the old and useless shuttles that they no longer needed. Even the term "redesigned" is misleading. What they did was take off the turret just so it would be even more useless. Jerks.

The current occupants of the small dropship were four Kig-Yar, and one Yanme'e, yours truly. Actually, I was in the dropship's cockpit; I was tasked to duty of piloting the dodgy craft due to my position as a Yanme'e. Naturally just because I can fly without engines mean that I am better at piloting. The ignorance of you grounders.

"How come you get to fly the craft?" one of the Kig-Yar asked querulously.

"Because you don't know how to, and I've been flying since I was born!"

Yes, I just lied. Sue me. I admit that I am complaining a bit too much. In all honesty, the reason I was piloting the Spirit and not actually risking my life down in the mine is because of those stupid energy handcuffs. I can't aim, and my wings ache. Yeah, that's a lie too.

As the Spirit approached the mine, (the Slipspace portal the _Always Revere The Gods_ had created floating behind us), I noted that the humans appeared to be trying to board the mine. I fiddled a bit with the Spirit's archaic magnifier. Closer inspection of the human frigate revealed that as it drew closer to the mine, more of the boarding pods had latched themselves onto its surface. Its missile pods fired furiously at the rather obsolete (like everything else) Type-27 XMF Interceptors; Banshees, in other words. I apologize for my use of complex names and serial codes. It's an old habit.

The said fighters were also engaged in a rather violent series of dogfights with the larger, faster, and noticeably newer human Saber craft. All in all, it looked as if the Detention Facility was desperately trying to overwhelm and stop the human frigate by the sheer number and ferocity of its inmates; pod after pod latched onto the frigate, detached, refilled itself with Yanme'e prisoners, and reattached itself onto the frigate. The battle, all in all, would have been described as 'glorious' by a Sangheili, a 'hellhole' by humans, and 'a convenient distraction' by me.

I tried to fly the Spirit as inconspicuously as possible, but it sadly just didn't work. The final stretch to the grav-ports of the mine was blocked by a human Sabre craft. As I watched, it primed its missiles and opened fire with its machine guns. I knew and the human knew that machine guns would not harm a Spirit unless the blast was sustained for several minutes. He was trying to trick me into fleeing, and then blasting me apart with his missiles as I ran away.

A normal Yanme'e would have charged at the Sabre purely out of loyalty. I charged at the Sabre purely out of logic. I gripped the throttle, and accelerated the Spirit to its limits. The Sabre kept up its barrage of bullets.

"Drone!" Hjan, sitting in the front-right end of the Spirit, yelled. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

"Watch."

The Kig-Yar cringed. They had probably seen enough Yanme'e die in suicidal attacks. Silly them. I'm no ordinary Yanme'e. I kept up my charge. I had too reasons for this. One, I was lessening the time the machine guns could shred the Spirit. Two, I was playing chicken with a Sabre; it would understandably be a bit nerve-wracking for the human. Gods, it was nerve-wracking for me. And third; when the human fired his missiles—

He fired them.

I was careening so quickly that the slightest twitch of the vessel allowed me to dodge the missiles. Having flown right past me, the tracking systems in the warheads desperately tried to do a U-turn. Difficult if you're a missile. By the time they did, the Spirit was on a collision course with the Sabre. The pilot knew that even if he dodged me, then the missiles would get him. So he did the smart thing. He chickened out.

The Sabre dropped out of sight, its machine guns stilling themselves. However, one of the missiles broke off from its pursuit of my Spirit by sliding off to chase the human. Just as I planned. Now the human could either let one of the missiles crash into me and the Kig-Yar, and let the other crash into his fighter, or he could remote detonate them both and save everyone.

Live and let live, I guess. The missiles detonated safely behind me. I suppose that human either valued its life more than its duty, or it decided there was easier prey to be found. I really didn't care which.

As I hummed with relief, I finished up my trek to the mine and coasted to a halt near its grav-port. The port was a large affair, big enough to fit the Spirit or a boarding pod. It was currently open; a pod had just left. Looking into it, I could see the hangar was full of Yanme'e prisoners being kept in line by several Kig-Yar. I approached it. As I did so, the mine engaged a comm transmission.

"This is Yanme'e Detention Facility 2A- Vessa system designate. Identify yourself!"

I pressed the small holographic button on my comm panel. I then proceeded to reroute it into the Spirit's right troop bay, so Hjan could do the talking. I noted that he and the rest of the Kig-Yar were still breathing heavily. Well, I couldn't wait forever. I slammed the Spirit into a barrel roll. _That _woke him up.

"Phone for you!" I chattered cheerily. Hjan gave me a cold look he probably saved for his mother.

"This is Kig-Yar Warden Major Hjan, this is a dropship of the _Always Revere The Gods. _Allow us to dock." He said, not lifting the piercing, buggy glare he was giving me.

"You came back for us? Praise the Forerunners! That human vessel is too powerful!" the Kig-Yar mine officer said, with noticeable relief.

"Not so. We have come to appropriate fuel so that the _Revere _may complete her escape."

There was silence after Hjan's declaration. It was broken by the mine's commander.

"Traitors! You'll gain no lithium from this mine!"

"I was afraid you'd say that." Hjan said menacingly. These Kig-Yar. They spent all their time threatening each other. He flashed me a nod.

"Aye aye, sir." I said.

I piloted the Spirit into the mine's hangar. Below us, hobbled Yanme'e and blue-shielded Kig-Yar wardens thronged. The Yanme'e looked at us curiously, and the Kig-Yar waved their guns in our general direction. Hjan gave me a nod, and then waved his head at the other Kig-Yar inside my Spirit. The four Kig-Yar charged their plasma pistols. I opened the Spirit's drop bay doors. At Hjan's signal, they fired. I'd like to note that this plan was mine, and it worked perfectly. The overcharged plasma blasts homed in on the nearest sources of energy; in this case, the handcuffs and hobbles of the Yanme'e and the shields of the wardens.

Suddenly, three Yanme'e found themselves free and one Kig-Yar found himself unprotected. Let the fun begin. The Kig-Yar was swarmed upon by Yanme'e, much the way I imagine ancient Yanme'e must have swarmed upon a freshly killed herbivore. As if seeking to increase the bloodshed, Hjan and the _Revere_'s wardens fired overcharged bolt after overcharged bolt. The blasts began to ignite a full blown riot beneath us. By the time the pistols were empty of charge, they were no longer necessary. It was a horrible and gruesome riot. Quickly, violently, in a timespan of about ten minutes, the entire hangar was thronged with fighting bodies. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. These Yanme'e, these Kig-Yar, they were going to murder each other. I felt flushed with shame, an emotion that I hadn't encountered much of before. I noted that the Kig-Yar didn't appear to feel anything of the sort.

"Drop us down, Drone, near the exit from this hangar. Remember to retrieve us afterward." Hjan said with more than a touch of suspicion. I ignored it. I dropped them down in the location he specified. As they hit the hangar floor, they were swarmed upon by Yanme'e. Their shields held strong, however, and bought them enough time to pick up pistols dropped by the Kig-Yar mine wardens. These Yanme'e were starved and weak, and their viciousness only made them stupider. The Hjan's lance didn't charge their pistols, but fired constantly as I had instructed them to. I watched as they backed out of the hangar and closed the doors.

Now they would work their way up to the lithium storage warehouses. They would then jettison lithium barrels that I would pick up. After that was done, I was to extract them and return to the _Always Revere The Gods. _But as of now, I merely needed to wait. So I swung the Spirit around to face the exit, and noticed something that definitely put a dent in my plans. Blocking the entrance/exit of the hangar was a boarding pod, which had returned in hopes of reloading itself with troops. It now hovered uncertainly, half of it in the vacuum of space, half of it in the pressurized hangar, with the energy field that separated the two intersecting it right in the middle.

As it turns out, I didn't really need to worry about that particular obstacle for a long time. As the boarding pod and my Spirit faced off from opposite ends of the hangar, a Sabre floated up behind the pod. In a panic, I immediately opened the Spirit's hatch. As I flew out of the dropship, the Sabre opened up with its missile pods. The missiles slammed into the boarding pod's engine. Instantly, the engines exploded, sending the pod careening forward into my trusty Spirit. As the two dilapidated Covenant craft slammed into each other, I flew up the ceiling of the hangar, and clutched it as hard as I could. The other Yanme'e in the hangar didn't have this impulse, and instead watched the Sabre as it activated its machine guns. The machine guns tore up the unlucky suckers that were standing on the hangar's floor. I, however, was safe up there on the ceiling. Seeking to do further damage, the Sabre moved into the hangar. It did so warily, checking for any surviving troops. However, he failed to look up.

As the Sabre passed beneath me, I let go of the ceiling. I landed on the Sabre's canopy, much like countless other bugs have landed on windshields. Indeed, arthropods seem to have this tendency; it's kind of horrifying to see all the splattered insects of the windshields of parked civilian Spectres. But I was all but squished as I lay atop the Sabre's cockpit. The human pilot inside was freaking out, and attempted to dislodge me by wrenching forward both the throttle and the brake. Indeed, I was _almost _dislodged, but I retained my grip upon the fighter.

The human then attempted to slam me upon the ceiling of the hangar. This, too, failed miserably. He then finally realized the best way to go about things was to fly outside of the mine, let me be hurled into space, and then return to do what he could to damage the mine. As he turned around, I leapt off the Sabre's canopy. The fighter then shot off into space, not realizing I was no longer on it. I made a beeline (bug joke) for the hangar controls. The human realized his mistake, attempted to turn around again, succeeded, and then tried to fly back in, firing his machine guns all the while. Staying merely feet away from the spray of bullets I heard behind me, I reached the hangar bay controls. I slammed my hand upon one of them. The hangar bay doors began to close in what felt like years.

The human pilot was faced by a choice similar to the one I had forced upon one of his comrades. Flee, save himself and save me, or stay inside the hangar, and be caught inside? Apparently, however, this pilot had more guts than the other one did. He stayed inside. I flew up toward him again. He fired his machine guns, which I dodged as best I could. It was to no avail, however. I felt my left wing explode in a burst of pain. Unlike you humans, Yanme'e go into shock immediately. The pain subsided quickly, but I lay on the floor, bleeding. The fighter turned toward me, guns threateningly raised.

He hesitated. Fool! I grabbed two plasma pistols. In a panic, he began to fire. A second later, bullets pierced my _right _wing now, and I loosed twin overcharged plasma bolts. I had aimed for what looked like the most armored and metallic part of the Sabre; the place the main power lines would have been located. The EMP blast from the twin bolts temporarily knocked out all of the power in the Sabre. It crashed dead to the floor. I skittered to it immediately, charging one pistol and dropping the other.

The human pilot inside the canopy desperately grabbed a primitive metallic projectile pistol and opened the canopy. I loosed the bolt. He immediately shot at the scariest thing he could see; the plasma bolt. The few bullets he fired in my direction were sizzled and stopped by the bolt of plasma. It continued and burnt a hole in the human's neck. I removed the gruesome corpse from the canopy and hopped in the rather uncomfortable human chair and checked out my chances at hijacking the Sabre.

And I was immediately struck by the thought; _If there are six directions (forward, backward, left, right, up, down), then why are there only four pedals?_

Yeah, I should have finished this, but I decided the battle at the mine would take two chapters. If you didn't get the ending, I suggest you watch Red vs. Blue. I'm really happy for all the reviews, especially seeing Halcyon5 back. Thank you all!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Onward and Upward

I stood facing the Sabre, grimly contemplating what to do. I couldn't fly it; the idea was simply impossible. It didn't have a tutorial, or an AI, or even a manual. It didn't make any logical sense whatsoever. It appeared to be designed as a thruster-based vessel; it could go straight forwards, and it could turn, but it couldn't float directly up, down, or backwards. I'm amazed humanity ever shot down a single fighter with such archaically designed craft.

In all honesty, it really didn't matter; the thing was simply useless to me. I was simply wasting time standing there in rueful indecision and examining the glossy black finish of the Sabre. I sighed, turned around, and abandoned the human fighter. I picked up the most charged plasma pistol I could find and attached it to my thorax. I crawled over to the Sabre again, and took out a can of biofoam which I sprayed liberally all over my wings. Once the whole canister was empty, I picked up the human's Magnum Pistol. Seeing as I didn't need to and couldn't fly, I could carry as much as I liked. I snooped around for a bit, and succeeded in finding a Kig-Yar Point Defense Gauntlet that still functioned. I then picked up one of the Kig-Yar's comm wristbands and tuned it to the _Always Revere The Gods' _frequency, just in case. However, I wasn't going to unnecessarily worry my comrades until I needed to. I double checked my equipment (pistol, Magnum, shield, comm) and gave my wings a once-over, then set out to find Hjan's lance.

As I exited the hangar, I noted the corridors were blaring sirens at maximum volume, despite the fact that I didn't see any Kig-Yar or Yanme'e at all. I checked left and right; the corridors looked the same. Just for the sake of a change, I took the left corridor. I walked along quickly and quietly, folding my wings as tight to my back as I could, holding the deactivated Point-Defense Gauntlet in one hand and the human pistol in the other. As I kept walking, the corridor soon set off on a rightward curve. Checking my mental map of the mine, I continued until I reached the intersection I wanted. I encountered two bright, holographic runes, one saying "WAREHOUSE" and one saying "TUNNELS". Following the sign, I strode in the general direction of the lithium warehouse.

Several meters to the warehouse, I suddenly heard an incredible _SUPERHUGELOUDWHAMMO! _behind me. I snapped around to face the direction of the noise. However, the source was hidden by the curve of the corridor. I cautiously crept around, activating the Point Defense Gauntlet and placing it on my back, and clasped it between my wings. As I moved forward, I caught sight of the fearsome noise. Dead ahead of me lay an egg-like human insertion pod. From what I knew of these things, they were normally used to drop humans from orbit like meteors. However, on occasion they were fired at Covenant ships and stations. I began to tremble. Despite this, I was pleased to see that I wasn't currently swimming in the vacuum of space. Checking the hole the pod made as it entered the station, I was relieved to find that the station's emergency pressure shields had come online, providing a shimmering band of energy that stretched across the wound the pod had made in the station's surface. My elation was short lived, however.

The pod's door burst open. A human leapt out, one gun on his back and one in its hands. It was clad in black armor, with a blue visor and small glowing pad on his wrist. It swung its head in the direction opposite me, and then swung it back around to look straight at me. With the barest twitch, it crouched and took aim. As it did so, I hit the ground and used my wings to hold up the shield I clasped between them. The human, following instinct, shot at the brightest thing it could see, much like the Sabre pilot did. A powerful stream of bullets collided with the shield, doing nothing but ache my wings even more. The human obviously wasn't being very observant, as he was firing directly through the notch of the shield as if he was combating a Kig-Yar. He had completely missed me lying down on the floor. I steeled myself, and fired the pistol.

The first shot collided with the human's visor. The visor cracked, obscuring his vision. Not waiting, I had already fired two more shots, on crashing uselessly into his chestplate and one clipping the top of his helmet. In a panic, I started firing like an Unggoy; pulling the trigger as quickly as I could. By the time the magazine was empty, three bullets had missed, five hit its arms and chest, and two had gone into its head (the Magnum wasn't at full capacity to begin with). I cautiously crept forward, lowering my wings and the shield, and throwing away the empty Magnum in favor of the more trustworthy and less esoteric plasma pistol. I stood over the dead, black-armored human. I checked out its guns, and determined that I could not use either of them. One was simply too big, and the other I knew for a sub-machine gun; a weapon with recoil I simply could not handle. I also checked my Point-Defense Gauntlet's charge: almost dead. With a sigh, I ditched it too, leaving myself with a pistol and a comm system against the humans that had now boarded the mine.

As I turned to leave, suddenly the human's comm activated. "Willard? This is O'Brien! Where are you? Willard, damn it! Where are you? Where!"

I froze. Not knowing what to do, I turned toward the comm system. It was a human's voice, speaking in that strange garble of sounds that most bipeds used. I could understand the Jiralhanae and the Sangheili, and they could understand me, even though we could not use the same language. It was in this way that I could pick up the tone of the human's voice, but not reply. The human sounded agitated and surprised. It had probably already surmised that his companion was dead. That would make it angry. Best to leave the immediate area.

I took off toward the warehouse at a faster speed. I began to plan. If the humans had already boarded in force, it meant that the frigate outside was either overseeing the attack upon the mine, or had left and was pursuing the _Always Revere The Gods. _If it was still out there, it would be waiting for someone aboard the station to try and escape, meaning that me and Hjan's lance could not escape. If it wasn't out there, and pursuing the _Always Revere The Gods, _it still meant we couldn't escape. I suddenly felt incredibly stupid as I realized that our attack upon the Kig-Yar and Yanme'e in the hangar probably weakened the mine's strength considerably, making victory only easier for the humans. This meant that the only way for any of the _Revere's _crew to escape would be if we could somehow contact them to send another Spirit, and if I could create a sufficient distraction. Feeling satisfied, I stopped aching my head over plans.

Wait… I was satisfied? Content? Happy? When was the last time that had happened?

I pondered this for a good long while. When _was _the last time that had happened? And why _now, _of all times? I began to wonder again, halting in my tracks. Strangely, I couldn't place it. When I looked at each individual period of my life, I could say _happy _or _unhappy. _However, I really couldn't place when and why I became happy. I shrugged. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead. It came to me just how much time I had squandered just standing there. Little did I know it would be a good thing. I suddenly I heard the sound of armored footsteps echoing down my corridor. I instantly tried to fly up to the ceiling. My wings cried in pain. Abandoning the hopeless Endeavour, I instead crawled up the walls and onto the ceiling. Under me, two more black armored humans marched in.

One was normal-sized, and carried the small, compact and vicious submachine gun the human I had encountered before had carried. The second human was surprisingly short; in spite of this, it carried a large and unwieldy projectile sniper rifle. They were talking to each other. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I understood the tone, and the intent.

"Damnit! I know Willard's around here somewhere! The idiot's comm must have busted itself." The shorter one exclaimed, anger in its voice.

"Or maybe…" the taller one said, with uncertainty.

"Don't say it! Don't say it!" the shorter one snapped. It was in the same tone as before, laden with anger.

"Hey, peace, man." The taller one said, in a soothing tone. It lifted one of its hands, two fingers raised, and the other three, including its single thumb, were tucked in. I copied the motion to myself. I gave a shrug (try doing that on a ceiling) and gripped the ceiling once more. It was that one motion that completely gave me away. The _slightest _movement allowed their radars to pick me up. The spun around to face me. I dropped from the ceiling, tossing my plasma pistol toward them and lifting both hands up in the gesture the tall human had given to the short one. It was a surrender _so fast _that they didn't even have time to fire.

"Hey, now, it's a Drone." The taller one said, curiously.

"Yeah. Shoot it. Don't want to waste sniper rounds on a bugger." The shorter one replied, a delicate undertone of disgust in his voice.

"Look, man, that the 'peace' sign. It's trying to surrender."

The shorter one looked at the taller. "What? What're you saying? It's a Covie, damnit! A Drone, too, a mindless Drone!"

"Ain't mindless, O'Brien. Learned the peace sign from me, didn't it?" the taller, calmer and altogether more reasonable one said.

"It's the enemy! We kill it, that's our job!" I noted that the shorter one was revealing more pain and anger as it spoke.

"That's not our job. We're soldiers."

"No difference!"

"Soldiers fight to win a war, not kill the enemy. Big difference. Now cool down. We've got to find Willard."

The shorter one now spoke with an equal intensity of pain and anger. "Willard's dead! I bet that there Drone killed him!"

The taller one grabbed the shorter on by the shoulder. It steered it away from me. As it did so, the short one flipped its sniper rifle onto its back. The taller one then took point, and marched ahead. The shorter one moved more slowly, and then almost silently, it pulled out its silenced pistol, and aiming behind him, squared it on my head.

"O'Brien. Don't do it."

The short one spun around fully, putting both hands on the pistol and aiming dead center on my forehead. "Damnit, I'm going to do it!"

"O'Brien, keep in mind, I'm still your superior officer."

"I know that! I'll follow any order besides that one!"

The tall one spun around as well. "You know, Lance Corporal, I'm all easy on my ODSTs, and I'm all nice to the marines, but I sure as hell want my orders to be followed. And because I'm your superior, when I give you an order, you aren't just going to do it, you're going to _want _to do it. Following my orders should be your life's dream. So follow them."

"I will, sir. Any other order, sir, but this one."

The taller human took several steps toward the shorter one, who still had its back turned, still facing me, unmoving, like a statue.

"Well then, if you'll follow any order besides this one, do you know what I'm going to order you to do after you shoot this Drone?"

"W-What, sir?"

"I'm going to order you to lift that gun to your visor, and shoot yourself in the face. And you're going to do it. You're going to _want _to do it! Hell, shooting yourself in the face-" here it paused and its voice became much colder and harsher. "—will be your life's dream."

The shorter one completely cracked. Its voice thrummed with anger, rage, pain and sadness.

"It's a Covie, sir. It's a Covie. We kill them. They kill us. Killed Checkman. Killed Cal. Killed Willard. Gonna kill me one day, gonna kill me. I'm gonna kill them now. Gonna kill this thing now. It's a Covie, and I gotta kill Covies. Gonna kill-" 

Here the taller one gently laid on hand on the shorter one's shoulder, put its thumb on the spine, and gently flexed. The shorter on fell unconscious, sniper rifle still on the back, but the pistol dropping to the floor. In one hand, the tall one carried the shorter, with the other; it placed its submachine gun on its back, and picked up the pistol. It then walked back the way it came, toward the lithium warehouse. I followed. We came upon two pods; behind the two pods, to gaping holes with energy shields stretched over them. The human put its comrade, sniper rifle, pistol and all, into one pod. He then activated some internal circuitry, and then placed the lid back on the pod. I heard the sound of vacuum seals tightening. The human then gave a hefty shove to the pod, sending it through the pressure shield, out the hole, and into space, where it would wait.

It then armed itself again, and walked back in the direction of the human I had killed. I certainly didn't want to be there when it found out. I instead finished my trek to the warehouse. And lo and behold, I made it. Unarmed, wounded, and extremely happy at being the first being ever to take out an enemy by surrendering.

I finally opened the door to the lithium warehouse, and I was greeted by the sight of lots of barrels, on Kig-Yar pushing them out a chute, one Kig-Yar lying wounded under a blanket, and Hjan standing guard, a shield on one arm and a human submachine gun in the other. One of the Kig-Yar was missing. Hjan hadn't noticed me. I gave a polite cough. At the sound, the Kig-Yar pushing barrels immediately took cover, and Hjan spun around. His face fell in dismay as he recognized me.

The Kig-Yar behind the barrels spoke. "Is it a human?"

Hjan shook his head sadly. "No."

"Worse. Much worse."


End file.
